Renegade (The Kurgan War Book 7)

by Richard Turner

  “My men have it upstairs. They’re waiting on me to give the signal. Once they have it, they’ll bring your stuff down to you.”

  “Do we have a deal? These two women for your supplies?”

  Royce nodded, energetically. “Yes. Yes, we do.”

  “I’ll get the women ready to move while you go and fetch me my supplies.”

  Royce winked at Tarina. “My boys and I, we’re going to have a good time with you and your friend later tonight.”

  Tarina smiled back. “If you live that long.”

  “Lordy, we have a live one here. Do anything stupid and your friend will get it first. Got me?”

  “I hear you.”

  Royce turned away, muttering to himself while he climbed back into his protective gear.

  Tarina grabbed Angie by the arm and spun her around so she could look into the other woman’s eyes. “Why the hell are you doing this?”

  “Look around you,” said Angie. “I have twenty-three people to look after, many of whom are sick. In case you missed it, there are no men here. I rely on Royce to supply me with some of my food and all my medicine. As an added bonus, he keeps the other marauders living out there in no-man’s land away from us. If it costs me the occasional female captive as payment, then I consider that a small price to keep my people alive.”

  “You know that he’s going to rape us and when he and his men grow bored of us, he’s going to kill us. Is your conscience okay with that?”

  “I’m going to hell when I die, of this I have no doubt. But if I can keep some of these kids alive until the Kurgs leave, then yes, my conscience is clear.”

  “Bitch,” snarled Tarina.

  Angie drew her pistol and leveled it at Tarina’s heart. “I’m sorry. But you’d do the same thing if you were in my shoes.”

  “Don’t count on it. I’m not like you in any way.”

  “Get dressed and then help your friend back into her protective clothing.”

  Ten minutes later, Tarina slid her mask back over her head and did up her hood. She was ready to explode. If she thought she could have wrestled Angie’s pistol away from her without Wendy being killed, she would have gone for it in a heartbeat.

  “Head for the door,” ordered the young red-haired girl.

  Two of Angie’s people moved Wendy to the exit. She was strapped onto her cot to prevent her from falling off.

  The door opened and Royce’s men began to move the boxes of supplies inside.

  “We’ll take over from here,” said a man to the girl.

  “Sure,” she replied. The girl turned and held her hand out for Tarina to shake.

  Tarina was about to tell her to go to hell when she saw the girl wink at her. She shook the girl’s hand and felt something slide into her hand.

  “No hard feelings,” said the girl.

  “No hard feelings,” replied Tarina. She let go of the girl’s hand and dropped her hand to her side. Tarina could feel a small pocket knife in her hand. She looked over at the men and saw none of them were watching her. She quickly slid the knife into a pocket and watched as the red-haired teenage girl melted back into the crowd. Tarina never learned what the girl’s name was. All she knew was that tonight her guardian angel was a young red-haired girl who didn’t want their deaths on her hands.

  Chapter 27

  The rumble coming from Sheridan’s stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten in almost a day. To his disgust, he discovered that all the food brought up by the mule was in paste form. The thought of eating his meal through a tube built onto his mask didn’t thrill Sheridan.

  For the past hour, his thrown-together platoon had been reinforcing the bunkers and trenches taken from the Kurgans only a couple of hours ago. The Kurgan dead were dragged out and tossed over the side of the ridge. If time permitted, they would be cremated; however, with a looming Kurgan counterattack brewing in the low ground, the dead were the least of Sheridan’s concerns. His platoon totaled twenty-eight soldiers, many of whom had sustained a wound or two during the fight for the hill. His second-in-command was another sergeant who walked around without a rifle. Instead, Sergeant Jabari carried a dead Kurgan officer’s sword and was reputed to be deadly with the blade.

  “How long do you think it will be until the sun comes up?” Jabari asked Sheridan.

  “An hour, maybe less,” he replied.

  “Sergeant, according to the latest sitrep sent by higher, the sun will be coming up in precisely fifty-three minutes,” said Adams.

  “Okay, Jabari, have the men stand to,” ordered Sheridan.

  “Will do,” replied Jabari, picking up his sword and walking out of the platoon command post which had been set up inside an old Kurgan mortar bunker.

  “Has Mister Emil confirmed if the fire effects officer at battalion headquarters has signed off on my danger close targets?” Sheridan asked Adams.

  “No, sir . . . I mean, Sergeant. I’ll check with him right now.”

  “Adams, don’t worry about rank. It’s about to get hairy around here. Just call me Mister Hill and that’ll be okay with me.”

  “Okay, Mister Hill,” replied Adams as he reached for his radio handset.

  A short while later after receiving confirmation of his danger close targets, Sheridan left the CP to tour his platoon position. His force was in the shape of a U facing the enemy. He was fortunate enough to have two chain guns and an automatic grenade launcher in his paltry arsenal. Sheridan had taken the time to site his squads to protect his heavy weapons. The remnants of his old platoon were in trenches on either side of the grenade launcher.

  “Sergeant, when do you think they’ll come?” asked Kozar.

  “Kurgs love to come at first light,” replied Sheridan. “There’s no reason to believe that they won’t do the same to us.”

  “Well, we’ve got plenty of ammo,” said Kozar, tapping the box he was standing on with his boot.

  “Do you feel that?” said Wiman.

  Sheridan stood still for a moment. “No. What do you think you feel?”

  Wiman placed his hands on the rocky side of his trench. “There’s something mechanical moving below us.”

  Sheridan placed his hand on the wall and felt only the slightest tremor. He racked his mind trying to think what could be causing the vibrations. Some of the platoons on his flanks were still using mechanical digging tool to improve their trenches. That had to be it, he thought to himself.

  “Sergeant, there’s more than one down there,” said Wiman. There was fear in his voice.

  “Your nerves are getting the better of you, Wiman. Take a minute to compose yourself.”

  “Please, Sarge, you have to believe me, there’s something burrowing through the rock below my feet.”

  “Let me check in with company headquarters,” said Sheridan, trying to comfort the troubled soldier. “If anyone knows what’s going on around here, it’ll be them.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Think nothing of it.” Sheridan walked out of the trench and was about to visit Lieutenant Emil when he saw a couple of men in the platoon to his right jump out of their trenches and point at something behind them. His curiosity was up. He climbed on top of a bunker, brought his binoculars to his eyes, and looked at the ground where the soldiers were pointing. His stomach dropped when he saw the rock split apart and a massive spinning drill burst out of the ground. Off to the left of the machine emerged two more tunneling craft. The burrowing drills stopped spinning and with a loud snap, the ends blasted off. Before the drills had even hit the ground, a horde of bloodthirsty Kurgans ran out of the machines, firing at anything or anyone they could see.

  Sheridan dropped to one knee, brought up his rifle, and laid his sights on an officer waving a crimson flag in the air. He slowly pulled back on the trigger and felt only a slight kickback when his rifle fired. The officer fell back with a hole in the side of his head. Sheridan waited for the next man to try to pick up the banner and killed him as well. With at least a couple of Kurgan plat
oons attacking the position behind his, he jumped back down into his trench and ran as fast as he could back to his CP.

  Jabari was already there waiting for him. “What the hell is going on, sir?” asked Sheridan’s deputy.

  “The Kurgs have dug under our position. I want you to take command of the closest squad along with both chain guns and remain facing the Kurgan lines in case they try and come at us from both directions. I’m going to take the two remaining squads along with the grenade launcher and attempt to stop the Kurgs from overrunning the hill.”

  “Got it,” replied Jabari, holding his sword tight in his hands.

  “Adams, you’re with me. Get company headquarters and let them know there are Kurgs inside the defensive perimeter.”

  Adams nodded and grabbed his handset to pass the bad news.

  Sheridan darted out of the bunker and sprinted back to Kozar’s trench. The sound of small-arms fire was everywhere. The Kurgs had achieved complete and total surprise.

  At the grenade launcher’s pit, Sheridan came to a sliding halt. A scared soldier spun about and turned his rifle on him.

  “Easy does it, lad,” said Sheridan, raising his hands slightly. “It’s me, Sergeant Hill.”

  “Sorry,” said the soldier, lowering his weapon.

  “There’s no time for that; let’s get this thing turned around,” said Sheridan to the men in the pit.

  The four men working together lifted the heavy steel tripod and swung the weapon around a full one hundred and eighty degrees.

  “Target the open ground between us and the depth platoon; let loose a volley of high explosive grenades,” ordered Sheridan.

  “Yes, Sergeant,” said the weapon’s team in unison. In seconds, the launcher was spitting forty millimeter grenades at the enemy.

  Sheridan felt someone tugging on his arm. He looked back and saw Adams bent over trying to catch his breath.

  “Sir, the Kurgs are everywhere,” reported Adams in between breaths. “It looks like B Company is almost completely overrun.”

  “Go higher and get them to shell our position. If they don’t, we’re going to lose this fight. Got it?”

  Adams nodded and rushed to pass the message.

  Sheridan crept onto the parapet to get a better look at what was going on. Smoke covered the battlefield, blocking his vision. He switched to thermal imaging on his binoculars and tried to see B Company’s position. There were white figures moving all over the line. From this distance, it was impossible to determine if they were human or Kurgan.

  “Mister Hill, I’ve passed your message,” reported Adams.

  Sheridan jumped down into the pit. “Thanks.”

  “Sir, you’re not going to believe this, but we’ve been ordered to try and retake B Company’s position.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Mister Emil says we’re the only uncommitted platoon and Colonel Denisov wants us to push the Kurgs out of B Coy’s lines.”

  Sheridan shook his head. “Not the dumbest order I’ve ever been given but a close second. Have the squad leaders report here immediately.”

  “Sir, what do you want us to do?” asked one of the soldiers operating the grenade launcher.

  “Do any of you have an IR strobe on you?” queried Sheridan.

  “I do,” said one of the men.

  “Activate it and attach it to the top of Adams’ radio antenna.”

  “What good will that do?” asked Adams.

  “It’ll indicate our progress through B Coy’s position. I want the grenade launcher to track you while keeping up a steady rate of fire ten to fifteen meters in front of us. Hopefully, it will push the Kurgs back or at least kill a few while we try to retake the line.”

  “Our IR sight is down,” a soldier said.

  “Use these,” Sheridan said as he handed the man his binoculars.

  “Mister Hill, Kozar and Mubarak are here,” reported Adams.

  Sheridan turned to face his two squad leaders. “Okay, in about thirty seconds, we’re going to rush like hell through the open ground behind us and up into B Company’s lines. It looks like the Kurgs have overrun the place, and it’s our job to retake it.”

  “With only two squads?” said Mubarak.

  “We’re all the unit has free right now. Just before we kickoff, I’m going to have the grenade launcher fire a volley of smoke and high explosives grenades at the trench line. That should help us cross the open ground without taking any casualties. Questions?”

  The two men shook their heads.

  “Okay, form up in the trench behind Adams and me.”

  Sheridan patted the man operating the launcher on the back. “Did you get all that?”

  “Yes, Sergeant,” replied the man. “Just give me a sign, and I’ll make sure you get all the cover I can provide.”

  With his stomach churning and his heart pounding away like a base drum, Sheridan moved into the trench and looked at the eleven men who would be coming with him. All he could see were their eyes through their mask eyepieces. They were scared but determined. They all knew their only chance for survival lay in taking the fight to the Kurgs and not waiting for them to attack.

  Sheridan raised a hand. Right away, the launcher rocked on its tripod as it shot out a volley of grenades. He mentally counted down from ten to allow the smoke canisters to discharge their heated smoke screens. When Sheridan hit zero, he leaped to his feet and ran like the devil toward a destroyed bunker about one hundred meters away.

  The sound of his heavy breathing though his canisters was all Sheridan could hear as he ran for his life. Through the billowing smoke staggered a badly wounded Kurgan soldier. The warrior had been shot in the side of the head. He had a hand on his head trying to stem the blood gushing from a deep cut above his right eye. Sheridan almost plowed headlong into the equally surprised Kurgan. Without stopping, Sheridan aimed his assault rifle at the Kurgan’s stomach and fired off a burst at point-blank range. At this distance, the warrior’s armor was useless. The bullets tore through the plating and into the doomed Kurgan’s. Sheridan didn’t stick around to watch his foe drop; he kept on sprinting until he reached the bunker entrance and dove inside.

  Adams and the rest of the assault force jumped in one by one and set up a hasty defensive perimeter.

  Sheridan got to his knees and took a quick look around. The floor of the bunker was covered in blood. The shattered remains of three soldiers were splattered against the far wall. He edged to an exit leading into the trench line. There were a couple of dead Kurgans on the ground next to a handful of soldiers.

  “Okay, folks, here’s what we’re going to do,” said Sheridan to his people. “Kozar, since you’re hefting a machine gun, you will take point with Wiman. Adams and I will follow right behind them. The rest of you under Mubarak will space yourselves out and be prepared to take the lead on my order.”

  A steady rain of grenades fell on the position, giving the men some comfort that they weren’t completely alone.

  Sheridan checked that the IR marker was still on Adams’ radio antenna before stepping into the trench with his rifle tight in his shoulder. When he saw the line was empty of enemy soldiers, he waved Kozar and Wiman to move past him. Sheridan tapped Kozar on the side of the head. “This time don’t hesitate. Shoot to kill!”

  “Yes, Sergeant,” responded Kozar, pulling back on his weapon’s charging handle and loading a round in the chamber.

  “We’re going to move along the trench system to the west until we either push the Kurgs out or make our way back to where we started.”

  Kozar and Wiman, with their weapons at the ready, began to walk down the smoke-filled line.

  When the two soldiers were a few meters ahead, Sheridan nodded at Adams and followed his men. The rumble of the creeping barrage of grenades helped guide his team through the maze of trenches. Every few paces they would come across a dead soldier or Kurgan warrior. Many had died in hand-to-hand combat; their bodies were wrapped around one another with knives p
rotruding from bloody wounds. It was evident neither side asked for or gave mercy to their enemy.

  After about a minute, Sheridan grew apprehensive. He had expected to run into some Kurgan soldiers by now. Sheridan raised a hand for everyone to stop and take cover. He waved Adams to him and said, “Contact headquarters and find out what is going on. We should have been waist-deep in Kurgs by now.”

  While Adams called back, Sheridan took a sip of water to quench his parched throat. The lukewarm water tasted of plastic, but he didn’t mind.

  “Mister Hill, the Kurgs pushed on to C Company’s position and got caught in a crossfire that has all but stalled their advance.”

  “Did they say what they want us to do?”

  “Yes. We’re to keep clearing B Coy’s lines until we’re sure there are no more Kurgs left alive and then go firm until we’re relieved.”

  “Okay, no change in the plan then. Thanks.” Sheridan let out a muffled whistle through his respirator and waved for Kozar and Wiman to continue with the advance.

  Within a few seconds, they came across B Company’s aid station. More than a dozen wounded soldiers had been shot or killed with swords where they lay. Sheridan ground his teeth when he saw a soldier whose legs had been chopped off before the coup de grace had been delivered with a bayonet to the heart. All of the charity and understanding he had built up with the Kurgans in his time evaporated in an instant. A blind rage filled his soul. To Sheridan, they were nothing more than beasts who deserved to be slaughtered like animals.

  “Mister Hill, higher says the Kurgs have broken and are falling back our way,” said Adams.

  “Good,” replied Sheridan, clutching his rifle in his hands. “Everyone, take up a position and be ready to fight for your lives. The Kurgs are coming.”

  No sooner had Sheridan passed the warning when a squad of Kurgan warriors emerged out of the smoke, saw the human soldiers, and froze in their tracks. Kozar let loose with his machine gun, cutting down the first couple of warriors. The others dove for cover.

  All of a sudden, dozens of Kurgan soldiers came running over the top of the trenches, desperate to get back to the safety of their burrowing machines. Sheridan’s men opened fire, cutting down Kurgans like wheat with a sharpened sickle.